


A Familiar Face

by carvedwhalebones (fuckyeahlucifersupernatural)



Series: In a Foxhole [1]
Category: Metal Gear, Metal Gear Solid
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-20
Updated: 2015-12-20
Packaged: 2018-05-08 01:30:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5478248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fuckyeahlucifersupernatural/pseuds/carvedwhalebones
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He knows it's not right, but it's hard to not want to relive the moments he won't ever get back.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Familiar Face

**Author's Note:**

> **Metal Gear Solid Blog:** beloveddisciple.tumblr.com

David is a beautiful image on his bed, body littered with old and new bruises from training and fingers greedily reaching out to touch him. David has eyes just for him. Only him. 

This isn’t the first time Miller has taken David to bed and it, certainly, won’t be the last. 

There are a barrage of reasons why Miller accepted the offer to join FOXHOUND. The reason he tells himself each morning is that this is the only way he can keep track of Big Boss and ensure that his “offsprings” are kept on the right path. The reality as to why he is, still, in FOXHOUND is because Big Boss is all he has left. Miller has no country to return to, has no family to call his own, Diamond Dogs is an organization he left behind, and he made the mistake of making Big Boss his home all those years ago. As much as he wants to move on, to forget the man and his warped vision, he finds himself still tethered to him. 

In his two years at FOXHOUND, Miller has seen very little of the man who he once dedicated his life to. It’s been about seventeen or so years since the two have spoken to the other face-to-face. Seventeen years since he’s seen the actual man in completion, not some phantom masquerading as him. Now, he sees only slivers of him and when they do converse, it’s through messenger and strictly professional. Miller is just another soldier and it’s difficult to swallow that he may have always been “another soldier” in the Boss’ eyes. 

That’s why David is perfect. To David, Miller isn’t “another soldier.” To David, he is a trusted confidant, mentor, and ally.

To be honest, he expected David to be more like his father. Expected to hear his father’s words regurgitated out or to find they share the same temperament, but he is given something different. David is equal measures perceptive and naive. He cares deeply about his comrades, willing to disobey his commanding officers to tend to another, but never foolhardily reckless. He has a, surprisingly, good head and heart on him, something of an oddity amongst the FOXHOUND rank. To top it off, he openly admires “Hell Master” Miller to the point of nearly inciting gossip amongst the ranks. Imagine Miller’s surprise when he finds the youth feelings towards him go beyond mere admiration.

David is a breath of fresh.

It has only been until recent has he stopped keeping David at arm’s length, having attempted to keep their relationship professional. It has been more than difficult with how quietly eager David is to soak up the information Miller has to provide, the two finding that they make great company. Just like his father, once upon a time, David has a penchant for sharing his thoughts and views when he’s safely away from the world’s view. Just like his father, once upon a time, Miller was that safe place for Snake to share such moments.   While the other recruits and trainees shy away from Miller, known less for his compassion and more for his unapproachable demeanor, David always makes an effort to seek him out. He’s always eager to learn, to take some sort of residence in his life. It, certainly, helps that David carries more than a handful of the Boss’ physical features. It helps that when David is shivering in the cold, miserable and trudging through mud during a survival exercise, that exhaustion makes his voice sound exactly like _his._ Miller has learned he can recreate the sound indoors. If he bites into David's Adam's Apple, his voice comes out overly graveled and raw, breathing and speaking as not Solid Snake, but Big Boss. 

Miller often wonders if this was what a young Naked Snake was like or how different their lives would have been if they met when they were younger. It’s why he, selfishly, keeps David close. He’s trying to relive the glory days of a demolished relationship with David. He’s trying to find closure through a clone.

That’s what this is, with the younger male breathing laboriously in his quarters, his name somewhere lost between each exhale and inhale. They’ve been apart for weeks, Big Boss having decided to take David under his wing. Miller isn’t sure if he’s doing this because he missed the youth, if he’s trying to reassert some claim, or if he’s trying to find Big Boss in David, once more. He already knows the answer as he stares down at David in this poor lighting. David is older with the shadows painting his features and the calloused fingers worshiping his bare skin are a welcoming, familiar sensation. God, when did he become pathetic? 

Snake is still learning how to touch him and he’s careful, as if categorizing each limb through touch. He’ll explore each limb, memorize it, before leaning up to kiss whatever scar or mark lays upon it. He’s still trying to learn how Miller is put together and becoming familiar with the scars that remain elusive and without story. Each kiss is careful and reverent, Snake lost against his skin. Once upon a time, Big Boss used to do the same — 

_No._ That was Venom.

Miller closes his eyes and exhales sharply, the illusion jostled. He digs metallic fingers into his temple, feeling David stutter in his exploration at the sight. The blond grimaces and pats the inside of the youth’s thigh as a distraction, encouraging him to spread his legs. He should give the youth a reassuring smile, that David isn’t at fault, but he can’t. He’s only grateful David doesn’t ask if everything is okay. 

Miller, abruptly, leaves the bed to rummage through the nearby dresser when he can feel his thoughts ruminate over what did and didn’t really occur. He rubs at his brows, taking the moment to regain his composure.

It’s not that it’s hard to separate David from Big Boss. It’s just that he doesn’t want to. At least, not during these moments.

When Miller turns around, David is busy lifting his hips up and grabbing one of the pillows behind his head, wedging it underneath the small of his back. Even in this lighting he can see that quietly attentive and present look David is giving him. David more than deserves someone better, not to be used as some tool for Miller’s own personal revenge and gains. But Miller is too wrapped up in his own hurt and hate for him to do what’s right. The thought lingers, for a moment, before it’s being pushed aside. What David is giving him is enough to reel him back into this barely sustained fantasy, grabbing what he was looking for from the dresser, returning to the Snake that needs him. 

Sinking back into the mattress, Miller settles between his legs, absentmindedly rubbing a nearby thigh. He can, finally, give that reassuring smile, reaching back for the discarded bottle. 

It doesn’t take long for David’s breathing to turn uneven, prone to holding his breath whenever Miller presses a slicked finger inside of him. He has to remind him to breathe a few times, something akin to affectionate laugh leaving Miller at the scrunched up expression of concentration. The older male takes his time with David, listening to the soft hitched noises when a finger re-enters to that low rasp of a sound when he’s knuckle deep. Each time, every moment, always feels like it’s the first with David. Nothing ever feels routine. Even when he manages to find that sweet spot does David still lay an arm across his eyes, looking embarrassed at his own pleading.

In the end, more time is spent coaxing the youth to remain still, the blond having to lay a metallic hand on his hip in a vain attempt. He’s been trying to rock his hips down onto Miller’s fingers or sneak a hand down to touch himself, his embarrassment beginning to transform into thinly veiled impatience. There _he_ is, with his cheeks looking as if they’ve been sunburned and shooting him _that_ look. Kaz can’t stop the wide grin spreading on his lips, chuckling warmly, his next words slipping out easily, “Alright, Boss. I got you. Hold on.” 

Kaz is answered with a suffering huff of air, but it’s betrayed by the sound of the mattress groaning with movement when Kaz uncaps the bottle next to his knee. The blond gives a knowing sound, not having to look up to see what's taking place. Snake is pushing himself onto his elbows, eyes watching with rapt focus Kaz’s left hand smear and coat his cock with the bottle’s contents. He won’t lie, he’s a glutton for his attention. He doesn’t miss the way that Snake is sitting up further or the way his fingers are trying to reach out for him. He can hear his name being breathed out like some prayer in his skull. 

_Kaz._

Quiet. Pleading. Impatient. Here. 

He concedes, prosthetic hand reaching out and digging into Snake’s jawline, leaning forward to push his mouth against his. There is a quiet part of him that reminds him that what he’s trying to create, recreate, solve, absolve — it’s but fiction. David is his own person, that no matter how many similarities he can exacerbate in these intimate moments, that this is not Big Boss. It doesn’t stop him from pushing seventeen years of little to none contact into Snake’s mouth, feeling the youth rut against him and cradle his face, trying to keep up. When he pulls away, expecting some sort of miracle or transformation, it's still David looking back at him. David with his swollen lips and this dazed, appreciative look on his face, his hands fumbling for Miller’s.

Miller doesn’t give him the chance to find his hands, instead urging the youth to lay back down, readjusting David on the bed. He’s pliant and malleable underneath him, quietly obedient to his instructions. That look on David's face has yet to leave and Miller can't stop his own hands from shaking. He doesn’t know why that look causes him to grind his teeth, pushing his cock into the youth albeit roughly and without warning. If there is a complaint, David doesn’t share it. His fingers only find its way onto Miller’s knees, grunting at the singular motion of Miller easing his way deeper.

While he would usually take his time and let David adjust, Miller is unyielding and abrasive. He’s irritated. Irritated for some unknown reason. It doesn’t help that it’s _David_ underneath him, murmuring his name between each shaky breath and groan. So he lets his fingers leave bruises. Lets his prosthetic fingers push too deep into the flesh of David’s thighs as he picks up his pace. He ignores the way David is reaching out for him, trying to grab for his hand. Miller only pays attention to the sound of his name become incoherent and lost on David’s tongue.

David is quick to reassert himself.

He’s still reaching for him, insistently pulling him down towards him after his fingers catch his hand, brusquely ignoring the silent agreement made that Miller would lead unless stated otherwise. There is a disgruntled sound leaving the youth when he is met with slight resistance, but Miller complies in the end, finding himself pulled into an uncoordinated kiss. David’s teeth clip his and he’s trying to massage the back of his scalp, fingers lost in his bond hair. David is trying to put out an unseen fire and Miller debates if he should continue to resist the attempt out of spite or simply sink into it. 

Miller sighs into the youth’s mouth when his decision has been made. David responds by kissing the corners, using this opportunity to push his instructor onto his back. They’re going off script, the older male disgruntled and wary at the change, but follows, regardless. There is a shared sound of disappointment when David slips off of his cock, the youth aware of the eyes critically watching his every moment. In this new position, David’s face is not that of his father’s. The lines of his face are a bit sharper and David only has eyes for him, inquisitive and determined. The differences between the two are clear and the blond works his jaw, unsure if he’s uncomfortable or relieved. 

He _should_ call this off, but he is too selfish. He still wants something out of this moment, even if it’s not exactly what he was hoping for. 

David is busy straddling his hips and reaching down for him, struggling to lower himself down onto his cock. “David,” he is breathing out when he slips his hand between them, replacing David’s hand with his own around his cock. There is that quietly eager look of David’s creeping on his features once more, the barest hint of a smile on his lips. “Slowly,” he’s finding himself instructing, the two groaning when David sinks down. Miller allows David to adjust and readjust himself, watching him discover what he enjoys and what he doesn't, Miller more than aware of the heat beginning to flood his chest. 

It’s better like this, he supposes. David _is_ the better Snake. David _genuinely_ cares for him. He repeats it like some gross mantra or numbers it off like a list of what he deserves — what _should_ feel better.

David is, soon, shaking on top of him, enough to pull Miller out of his thoughts. Blunt fingernails are digging into his sides, David’s breath ragged as he picks up his pace. _‘Master’_ leaves David’s mouth as warning before he’s clinging onto him, spilling onto Miller’s chest, the youth slack jawed and red with exertion. It’s hard not to give a sound in appreciation at the sight, but it's not too soon before that look of concentration is falling on his features, once again. David is lifting his hips, shakily attempting to continue for him. Miller is quick to stop him, a hand patting at David’s hip, coaxing the youth to slide off of him. 

_‘Master’_ leaves his mouth once more, quiet and reverent, as David is being urged onto his back. He wants to take care of him and that old, familiar bitterness is festering, once more, in his gut. Miller leans forward to press an apologetic kiss on his forehead before rubbing heated, misshapen circles into the bruises he has left across David’s thighs with his prosthetic. The youth basks in the gentle attention, giving a tired nod to an unasked question. It's all the blond needs to continue on. 

Carefully, the older blond is slipping away from him, patting at Snake to straighten out his legs or to lay his arms down to his sides. The blond crawls over him, Snake opening his mouth when a metal thumb grazes his bottom lip, watching through heavy lids Miller straddle his shoulders. The younger male is granted with a hum in content before Miller is none-too-gently pushing his cock in-between his lips. With his prosthetic moving to dig into the mattress and keep him in position, his other hand is grazing Snake’s right cheek, drifting upwards until his hand is nearly covering his eye. The questioning sound from the younger male is lost somewhere in his throat when Miller pushes his hips forward. Snake’s fingers are digging into his backside as he picks up his pace, panting and greedily taking in the image of one blue eye staring back up at him. The sight is nearly dizzying.

“Breathe through your nose,” the blond instructs raggedly, already feeling the muscles in his stomach spasm and heat sear the underside of his neck.

Kaz slows down only to ease himself further, listening to Snake inhale through his nose as per instructed. “Good. Just like that,” he commends, watching Snake’s visible eye close when he buries his cock inside of his mouth. Snake’s throat is fluttering, seizing around him just so, watching his brows pinch together in concentration. Kaz keeps him there, drinking in the sight of the youth’s flushed skin and his lips framing his cock. With only a shaky sound as warning, Snake is soon choking and squirming from underneath him.

David is quick to turn his head to the side to cough when Kaz lifts his hips, listening to him suck in the air noisy. Miller rubs the side of David’s neck before a thumb is scooping the messy aftermath slipping past David's lips back into his mouth, giving an approving sound when David laps at his thumb or sucks on it. Miller kisses him, once more, on the forehead before he’s departing from the bed, off to fetch something to clean the both up. 

A quick glance at the clock on the wall tells him that it’s past curfew. It’d only stir questions and intrigue if David comes slinking back to his bunk at this hour. “Stay the night,” he commands, rather than suggests. He doesn’t need to turn to see David to know the youth is giving that small smile of his. He knows it’s there and Miller feels, momentarily, guilty. This would be the first time David stays the night. There is an old feeling of excitement stirring within him at the idea of waking up to a familiar face. It'd be nice to wake up next to Snake, again.

**Author's Note:**

>  **A/N:** I'm going to point this out because I thought it was neat, but whenever Miller is pretending that David is Big Boss in the fic, it's no longer "Miller this" but "Kaz this." These are the only instances where he's Kaz. And when the illusion breaks/falters, it's back to Master Miller. 
> 
>  
> 
> _Love it? Hate it? Tell me in a review!_


End file.
